


A Very Long Regency Day

by kiitos



Category: The Supersizers RPF
Genre: Gen, Humor, or at least an attempt at it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiitos/pseuds/kiitos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles is technologically inept and attractive in a moustache, Sue is snarky and drunk. Beau Brummell is hopelessly confused by pretty much everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Long Regency Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vibishan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibishan/gifts).



On reflection, Giles thought as he watched reality shift back into its appropriate place, buying that “Genuine Real Time Travel Honest” app on his phone hadn’t been his best plan to date. He released his claw like grip on Sue’s arm to a mere crushing hold and glanced around somewhat nervously. Obviously he didn’t say he was nervous but after putting up with his girlish squealing and foppish prancing about for several months now, Sue was probably already aware of it.

“Well?” Sue demanded about half a second later. “Where are we, or should I say, when are we? You insufferable idiot.”

Giles frowned at that, it was a bit harsh after all. “Well I don’t know!” He exclaimed defensively.

“You’re the one with the stupid bloody phone application, look what it says!” Sue said with all the exasperation of a primary school teacher who has just found one of their students gluing a hamster to the ceiling.

Giles scowled and pulled out his phone, the app was flashing irritatingly and the only thing it was possibly to discern were the numbers “1815.”

“I think,” Giles began, attempting to sound knowledgeable. “That we are in Regency England, this says 1815.”

Sue snorted and flicked a bit of hair from her eyes. “It would be, wouldn’t it? You loved mincing about pretending to be a dandy instead of the short angry hobbit that you are.”

Giles thought that was rather unfair but then it occurred to him that it was all true so he shrugged and looked about. “Is there a problem with that? Anyway, we have to put up with it for a while, this says we can’t change time again for another twelve hours.”

“Bloody typical.” Sue huffed, folding her arms and flopping onto a nearby and incredibly convenient wall. “You couldn’t have bought the quality application, it had to be the cheap one.”

“Stop complaining, woman!” Giles smirked, because actually this whole thing was relatively hilarious. “It could be worse.”

“Yes we could be in the medieval period.” Sue agreed, crossing one leg over the other so an ankle rested on a knee. “We’d be dead in seconds.”

“You did look lovely in that outfit though.” Giles insisted, nudging her gently.

“Oh shush, you old fool.” Sue smiled back. They fell silent for a moment as the tension settled and all because reasonably well again, then Sue clapped her hands together. “Right well, we had better find some clothes then. We’ll probably get shot or burned for wearing these, come on.”

She stood up and strode off in what they both hoped was the direction of a tailor with infinite discretion, Giles followed obediently and with his hands in his pockets. It was going to be an interesting twelve hours to say the least.

As it turned out, that was a huge understatement, given that they only had about fifty quid between them and absolutely no guineas or groats or whatever it was these Georgians used for money. Acquiring clothes was rather difficult and involved a great deal of personal effort on Giles’ part. Basically he was forced to flirt rather heavily with a gentleman with a moustache even sillier than his own and a ridiculous hat just to distract him whilst Sue lifted any number of mismatched items from his tailors shop. After promising that he would indeed meet the man later for a small, discreet sherry, Giles ran from the premises after Sue who had suddenly become about nineteen months pregnant judging by the size of the bulge of clothes beneath her very twenty first century fleece. (The woman outside who asked Giles when his wife was due to give birth to their twins nearly made him swallow his own tongue trying not to laugh whilst Sue glared at him and growled through gritted teeth something incomprehensible until the woman went away again.)

“Oh come on.” Giles sniggered whilst pulling on some boots that were very definitely not up to Beau Brummell’s standards. “It was quite funny.”

“It was not!” Sue argued back whilst fighting with a dress that was actually something of a rival for Caroline’s hideous striped monstrosity. (The Royal Wedding special was still a fond but at the same time slightly painful memory for them both.)

“If you’re going to make me flirt with men with silly moustaches then I’m allowed to find that funny!” Giles insisted, jostling Sue out of the way so he could check the curl of his own facial hair in the sliver of glass they were using in lieu of a mirror.

Sue folded her arms and shook her head, “you are such a dandy!” If Giles didn’t know any better he might think her tone was fond but he did know better and could pretty much picture the expression of scorn.

“Beau Brummell hasn’t got anything on me.” He countered with a sly grin at his reflection, idly he found himself wishing he’d had the forethought to grow some slightly longer sideburns and let the curls in his hair come through a bit more, but this had been a spur of the moment trip after all.

“I wouldn’t let him hear you say that, he might set the Prince on you.” Sue mused, trying to push her hair under a bonnet hat of some description.

“I could take him, I’m Giles “Killer” Coren, remember?” Giles said, putting up his fists in an excellent impression of a Victorian postcard.

Sue sighed. “Wrong era, this is the Regency, not the Victorians.” She paused. “Or was that Edwardian? I should be able to remember but to be honest all I can recall is the hideous over quantity of dead animal heads and noxious belches.”

Giles laughed and offered an arm to his ‘dear sister’ once they were both as dressed as they were ever going to be. “At least I try to aim them away from you.”

“Oh that’s very big of you, thanks for that.” Sue admonished though she took his arm anyway. “Can we see if we can find something nice to eat, we disappeared through space and time before lunch arrived.”

Giles stared at her. “You do remember what doing Supersizers was like, yeah?”

“Shut up.” Sue replied and slapped him on the arm.

~

As it turned out, very little was actually achieved other than trying to blend in with the other people and failing rather excessively. Sue was far too fond of talking loudly and generally not being demure for either of them to really look like they were actually Georgians, so Giles told everyone she was from “a colony” and they were generally left alone after that. Of course later he realised that people probably thought he meant some sort of leper colony but that was neither here nor there considering it served the purpose.

After that little incident, nobody really took any noticed of them, that is until they attempted to cross a road and Giles was tripped over by a man carrying the front end of a sedan chair. The whole thing clattered to a halt whilst Sue tried to haul Giles off his arse and out of the road.

“I say!” Said an excellent dressed gentleman as he poked his head out from the behind the curtain covering the chair. “Are you alright, good fellow?”

“Sue.” Giles groaned. “I’ve got a concussion; Beau Brummell is looking out of a floating chair at me.”

Sue sighed, looking incredibly put upon as she once again grabbed Giles’ flailing right arm and attempted to haul him to his feet. “You great lumpen prat.” She said sounding deeply exasperated. “Get out of the road, and it’s not floating, it’s got two nice gentleman carrying it and they won’t kick you for getting in their way if you would just stand up and not be in the way anymore.”

Giles continued to be incredibly useless but the man in the chair leapt out of it, Sue noted that his boots were indeed very shiny and idly wondered if it could indeed be Beau Brummell.

“Madam!” He declared. “Allow me to be of assistance.” And he looped his arms underneath Giles’ and lifted him to his feet, not difficult considering Giles was a short-arse. Sue observed however, that the subsequent pat down of Giles’ pilfered breeches was entirely unnecessary and decided that the infamous Beau Brummell, if that was indeed who this was, had just used a very old trick in a very old book to cop a feel of Giles’ arse.

In fact the lecherous but sartorially flawless gentleman then went on to suggest that they sojourn to a club for a drink. He did mention that Sue wouldn’t be allowed in but she’d threatened him with a good kicking and he’d come up with a way to sneak her in so long as they sat in the corner.

“So.” Beau declared as he settled himself beside them with a glass of brandy in one elegant paw. “Are you both foreign?”

“Er.” Sue said, helpfully.

“Um.” Giles said, also unhelpfully.

“Not exactly.” Sue tried. “We’re from…”

“Croydon.” Giles finished. “Small village of odd people. Bit rough.”

Sue glared at him and Beau didn’t seem convinced but he took the moment’s opportunity to launch into a long speech about what was apparently his favourite subject, the prince regent. If Sue was a betting woman (which she was, frequently, especially when it came to winning money on Giles’ uselessness) she would have put money on somebody having a little crush. ‘Georgie’ as it turned out, was the epitome of manliness and to be honest, both Giles and Sue were quite impressed with the man’s loyalty to what was undoubtedly a fat gouty lecherous whoremonger. (Still Giles’ favourite phrase that he had ever said on telly.) They both tactfully decided not to mention that the friendship wouldn’t last, the ‘fat friend’ incident was probably best left unmentioned lest Brummell shriek and faint or something.

“So do you really use champagne to polish your boots?” Giles asked, looking like a fangirl getting fashion tips.

Brummell straightened up self-importantly and nodded as though it were the most solemn thing he had ever been asked. “Of course, dear Giles, how else would I get them to shine in such a manner?”

“Kiwi?” Giles said without thinking.”

“Kiwi?” Beau repeated with a confused expression.

Giles blinked, also confused, a couple of times before realising that they were not filming and this actually was Beau Brummell in front of him with no idea what kiwi boot polish was. “Er, never mind.” He mumbled. “More drinks?” Without a second’s pause he was up and accosted some poor club worker for another round, leaving Brummell and Sue in a somewhat awkward silence.

“Madam.” Brummell broke it tentatively. “I hope you do not mind my saying so, but your skirts and bodice do not match your boots nor your unusual shawl.”

Sue looked down at herself, it was true that the oddly striped skirts and plain bodice did not go with her incredibly twenty first century converse but the unusual shawl threw her. It took her a moment to realise that he meant the fleece that she had got sick of carrying and thrown around her ridiculously bare shoulders. In her haste to filch as much useful stuff as possible from the shop, she had only picked up half an outfit for herself and as such looked like a poor student at a historical fancy dress party. That said, it was still rude of Brummell to point it out and she told him so, complete with gesturing and vague threats, the kind of which she normally used on Giles. It was incredibly effective and Sue began to wonder if there was any Brummell in Giles… then she sniggered at that thought and had to duck her head for fear of spraying Brummell with gin.

At that point, Giles returned with a ridiculous quantity of alcohol and some snacks that ranged from miniature pies to little cakes. Sue steered clear of the ones she knew from experience contained far too many sad dead things and mostly concentrated on the cakes and pastries, leaving Giles and Beau to the offal and other nasty things.

Sometime later, both Giles and Sue were incredibly pissed off an extraordinary quantity of sherry, brandy, gin and some fruity tasting thing that neither of them really caught the name of. Naturally, Giles shifted into his standard drunk mode of trying to pull Sue who was rather unhelpfully smirking at Beau who was sulking because Giles was not trying to pull him. Or at least that’s what she decided was happening.

“Perhaps we could make the journey to my humble abode?” Beau suggested, trying to come across as polite but authoritative.

Sue flapped a hand at him. “That seems like effort to me, let’s just stay here.”

“S’nearly time to go anyway.” Giles slurred, apparently so drunk he had forgotten the cardinal rule of time travel and was squinting at his phone.

“So soon?” Beau pouted looking faintly ridiculous. “But I was going to introduce you to Georgie, he would so love to meet you.”

Giles perked up a bit at that but Sue slapped him down. “I am not spending another twelve hours here so that you can hobnob with a fat prince.”

Beau squeaked at this but nobody was really listening.

“Give us a snog and I’ll forget he said anything.” Giles grinned drunkenly, receiving a kick to the shins for his efforts.

“I think you’re the lecherous one, and all that port you’ve had’ll give you gout, maybe you should meet Georgie Porgie.” Sue smirked in response.

“That’s not very nice.” Giles flailed his arms for lack of a better reply, inevitably Sue had won that small argument, as she always would and actually it was a relief because he was far too drunk to continue thinking about things like words. He was about to suggest that he might need some fresh air but suddenly the world lurched sideways, he thought he was about to vomit horribly but Sue had dived on him and he didn’t think that was really the appropriate thing to do when someone was about to be horrendously sick. He shut his eyes just in case though.

When he opened them, his front room had slithered into view and Sue was staring at him from about two inches away.

“Did that actually happen?” She asked with an air of incredulity.

“I have no idea.” Giles sighed suddenly feeling very tired. “But I think I broke my liver.”

Sue nodded and flopped onto an opposite sofa, passing out in about three seconds flat. Giles watched for a moment before giving up and doing the same, half hoping that all that nonsense had just been a dream.

Unfortunately in the morning there were breaking news bulletins everywhere where cultural history was actually something to care about, how some secret diaries of Beau Brummell had been discovered where he raved about disappearing people in odd shoes and fleecy shawls. Giles sighed deeply, pulled out his phone and set it back to the date they had first ended up at.

It was going to be a very long day indeed. 


End file.
